Dust To Dust
by LenaAlexHunt
Summary: Lena Hunt's mother, Alex Drake, disappeared when she was a baby. She was raised by her father, Gene. When he tells her the truth about her mother's disappearance, Lena swears revenge. But when her mother returns, her life changes forever...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! So, this is my current fanfiction. The idea kind of popped into my head ready made, and I just developed the details and polished it up a bit. A huge thanks to Kelly/Bolly Keggs, who I discussed every plot idea with, Sian, who was enthusiastic and impatient, and Evie, for being a Wise Old Owl (lol) Lena x**

Dust To Dust

Prologue

"_Gene!" Alex screamed at the top of her lungs. Harper laughed, and pushed her closer to the edge of the building. Across the asphalt, her boss and partner, DCI Gene Hunt, held up both his hands in mock defeat. She knew him well enough to know that he was calculating a plan. He took a cautious step forwards, and Harper shoved her again. She whimpered. Remembering her psychology training, she tried desperately to reason with him: "I can see you've had a lot of troubles… maybe we could talk about it?" she asked. His only reply was a swift cuff across the cheek. Gene delved into his pocket and drew his pistol, which he aimed at Harper's head with a barely-trembling hand. Alex was impressed – she wished she had the same level of self-control. "OK sunshine," Gene spat. "Here's how this works. You let go of DI Drake here, I put the cuffs on, and we all go home – or in your case, a police cell."_

_Harper laughed, and Alex felt his hand go into her pocket. She resisted the urge to kick, and a second later, she felt a pistol pressed against her spine. "Gene!" she shouted again, not as loudly this time, and she could see the pain on his face when she said his name. She knew that he knew that they might not both get out of this alive. Harper laughed again, and raising the pistol, he pressed it to Alex's temple. She could just about see it if she squinted sideways._

_Gene couldn't ignore such a visible threat to Alex's life, and taking careful aim, he let loose a single shot, which slammed into Harper's shoulder. He swore, and let her go. "Run, Bolls!" Gene shouted, but Alex couldn't move. Her legs were frozen, her torso facing the drop before her. There were more shots behind her, and she heard them clanging off the metal air vents and slicing into the red brick walls. Something dimly registered in her sub-conscious about ricochets, but before she could crouch down, or even protect her head, she felt something thud into her back._

_She knew it was a bullet immediately. In normal circumstances, she could have taken the hit, and remained standing. Maybe staggered a little, but overall, she would have been fine. Instead, with a precipitous drop before her, she staggered a single step – in the wrong direction. As she lurched over the edge, she heard Gene scream her name behind her, and desperately, she tried to find a handhold. She needed to see him once more. She needed to tell him she loved him. She needed…_

_And then she hit the ground, and the only thing she needed, the only thing she wanted, was death._

Assuming Alex 

My alarm rang loudly, cutting through the soft, shadowy world of my dreams. "Bolls?" my dad's voice echoed through from the kitchen. "Kettle's on. Going down to the station, you can get yourself off to school OK?"

I murmured an agreement. It seemed to satisfy Dad, who stomped towards the front door. I heard a contemptuous sniff, and I knew he was checking his reflection in the mirror. He'd been endlessly paranoid about looking older since Mum disappeared, way back when I was a tiny baby. I was just dragging my legs out of bed when he shouted again.

"You might want to come down to the station later. Got something planned, for your birthday…"

Crap. I'd forgotten that. The tears welled automatically as I counted silently. My fifteenth birthday without Mum. I sniffed, and Dad realised that now, although I was fifteen, and, in his eyes, "a big, grown-up girl" I was still going to go through the same event that happened every birthday, every Christmas, and worse still, every Mother's Day. He pushed open my bedroom door, and sat next to me awkwardly. He reached out and sort of half-opened his arms, and I leant into them and cried.

A full fifteen minutes later, and I was washed and dressed. The last wheezes from the Quattro had faded into the distance ten minutes ago, and I was applying makeup using the bathroom mirror. I sensed something – or someone – behind me, but spinning sharply on my heel, there was no-one there. Spinning back to the mirror, I noted with irritation the mascara smudged across my cheek, and sighing, knelt down and rubbed the corner of the flannel across it. Standing up, I was bemused to find the mirror steamed up, and wiping my jumper sleeve across it, I bit down on my lip, hard.

Stood behind my reflection was my mother. She looked nothing like the photos I had seen of her, for one thing her hair was scraped back into a sensible bun, and she was wearing a suit, but I knew it was her nonetheless. She looked confused – until she saw me. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled – a smile I was so familiar with, although I could not properly remember it.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "Tell Gene I'll see him soon."

With that, her eyes filled with tears, and the mirror steamed up again. When it cleared, she was gone, and my reflection was alone once more. I screamed in frustration. Furiously, I slammed my fist into the glass, sending an intricate web of cracks running across its surface. Pulling my hand away, I noted with grim satisfaction that my hand was studded with shards of broken mirror, but my triumphant grin turned to a grimace as the pain hit.

Cradling my bleeding hand, I jogged to the kitchen, stumbling over a discarded pair of shoes in the hallway as I went. Automatically, I flung out my injured hand to steady myself, then screamed as it hit the wall, leaving a bloody handprint on the white paint.

Finally reaching the kitchen, I stuck my hand under the cold tap, wrenching it on so hard the aged metal creaked in protest.

The cold water felt good on the gashes in my hand. Several smaller pieces of glass clattered into the sink, and wrapping my good hand in my jumper, I poked them gingerly down the plughole. Gritting my teeth, I readied myself for what was coming next, before yanking out the largest shard of glass – a good 3 inches long – in one swift movement.

The pain was excruciating. A fresh flow of blood poured into the sink, and I screamed again. As I looked at the piece in fascination, there was a flash of hazel and blue that I knew was an eye – but not my own.

Wiping the blood from the end of the piece with my jumper, I saw the other eye, and I knew who it was immediately. "Mum?" I whispered, and the eyes crinkled. I realised she was smiling, and I smiled too. The mirror shard fogged up, and I panicked.

"Don't go! When? When will I see you?" I whispered desperately, but before I could do anything, an "S" had appeared in the steam. I grasped the concept immediately, and waited patiently until the word "SOON" had appeared.

No sooner had I read it than the mirror was clear of steam. Suddenly, I could see all of my mother's face. She was mouthing something, and, concentrated, I realised it was the same three sentences, over and over: "I love you. So proud of you. I'll see your father soon."

And then I was alone again.

The phone rung, loud and long, breaking my trance only slightly. It took me a minute to realise I should answer it, and by then it had stopped. Sighing, I continued pulling out pieces of glass, before ripping a long strip off of the tea towel with my teeth and wrapping it tightly around my hand. I repeated this procedure until there was no tea towel left to rip, and my hand was only a few sizes smaller than a boxing glove. Then I went into the lounge and took down the red box that had sat on the top shelf of the bookcase for as long as I could remember.

The box was lighter than I remembered, or maybe I was getting stronger. I sat in the centre of the carpet, and spread the photographs out in concentric circles around me. They shared a common subject matter. My mother, DI Alex Drake.

She was smiling, laughing, thinking, talking, working, eating, drinking, sleeping, holding me, with my father, with Chris, with Ray, with Shaz. My hand went straight to my favourite. She was stood with my father, wearing the red off-the-shoulder top that appeared in many of the photos. She had on tight blue skinny jeans, tucked into white leather boots, and her famous white leather jacket. She was looking straight at the camera, and smiling, and she seemed to be looking right at me. Taking it carefully in my good hand, I went to the door in the house that was never opened, the door to the room I could not remember, as I had not been inside it since my mother disappeared.

It led to my mother's bedroom, and it was, of course, locked. The simple lock was not an obstacle, and raising a single hand to my head, I pulled a pin from my hair and inserted it into the keyhole. A twist to the right, then to the left, and I was in.

It smelt wonderful. Two walls were red, and two were white, with neither colour touching a wall of the same colour. The furniture was black, to match the woodwork. There was a mirror with a white mosaic frame which I loved instantly, and a black egg chair with a white fluffy cushion on it. On one wall was a huge floor-to-ceiling mirror, with pictures held in place around the edge by little blobs of Blu-Tack. The huge bed was neatly made with a psychedelically swirled black-and-white design, and picking up the pillow, I lifted it to my face and sniffed. It smelt wonderful, of flowers, and wine, and slightly of ink.

Carefully, I placed the pillow back on the bed and slowly moved over to the dressing table. There was a single bottle of perfume resting on the top, and I smiled as I read the name: _Kismet. _She lived and breathed the force – in every sense of the expression. Spraying a little onto my wrist, I found it smelt of flowers and wine – the same smell as her pillow, without the ink.

Placing the bottle carefully back on the shelf, I turned my attention to the wardrobe in one corner. Pulling it open was incredible. Hung neatly in front of me were the clothes I had only ever seen in pictures: brightly coloured off-the-shoulder tops, silk blouses, scarves, and, at one end, the famous leather jacket. Reaching out a tentative finger, I stroked the soft leather reverently.

I pulled out the top I loved best, the one in the photo I held in my good hand. Slipping off my slightly bloodstained jumper, and wriggling out of my school blouse, I slipped the top over my head.

It was a perfect fit. Carefully, I slid the left shoulder off, so I was wearing it like Mum had, and looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't look right wearing my school skirt, so delving in the drawer under the wardrobe, I found a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and pulled them on, carefully folding my skirt and blouse and placing them on the chair. There were necklaces hanging on a rack above the dressing table, and I picked out a black one.

Next to the bed was a shoe rack, with several pairs of boots and a couple of pairs of heels arranged by colour on it. Taking the white ones, I carefully slid my feet into them, holding my breath as I did so. They fit perfectly, and I smiled as I tucked the jeans inside. Straightening up, I realised something was still wrong. Then I realised. The eyes. She always wore eye makeup, heavy blue eyeshadow, no matter where she was going. Running gingerly back to my room, I rummaged through my makeup bag until I found the right shade.

Returning to Mum's room, I carefully applied the eyeshadow, top and bottom lash lines, and a swirl on the outside of the eye. Turning, I walked towards the wardrobe, carefully sliding the jacket off its hanger and slipping it on. Wearing it, I felt like a different person.

I felt like my mother, and striding over to the mirror with my eyes closed, I posed before looking at myself. Placing one hand on my hip, I tossed my head back over my shoulder and opened my eyes.

I gasped in shock. Staring back at me was Mum. I knew it was me deep down inside, but at the same time, I was no longer me. I was DI Alex Drake, and I was powerful.

Returning to the lounge, I sat in the centre of the photographs once more, my back to the door, a smile caressing my lips. I wasn't Lena Alex Hunt any more. I wasn't that girl whose mum disappeared, or the guv's daughter. I was Alex Drake, smart, sophisticated and sassy. The feeling was incredible, and I laughed out loud. The sound echoed in the empty flat, reminding me of the day's events so far, and it was at that point that my brain finally reacted rationally to the day's events.

And that was when the tears started flowing. And once I had started, I couldn't stop.

"Police! Open up!" my father's voice failed to cut through my reverie. My vaguely sarcastic subconscious told me it was a slightly unnecessary comment, as he blatantly had a key.

A few seconds later, I heard the door open and a single pair of footsteps entered the flat. Good – he was alone.

The lounge was the last door in the hallway, and I could hear him going from room to room, calling.

"Bolls? Lay?" there was a pause, and I realised, dimly, that he had seen the handprint. The volume of the shouting cranked up a notch. "LENA?" There was a brief tinkling noise, and I remembered the bloody glass in the basin. I still didn't move. It was like I'd forgotten how.

"Lena? Please, God, you miserable bastard, let her be in here." And with that the door slammed open, Dad ran inside… and froze. As the photographs flapped in the breeze, I remained immobile.

"Alex? Alex, is it really you?" he whispered, and I realised with a jolt that he thought I was my mother. With my back to him, all he could see was a mane of curly hair and a white leather jacket.

"Alex? Talk to me, Bolls! Why are you here? Where's Lena?" he asked.

Finally, my body unfroze, and I turned to look at him, my face a mask of tears and streaky blue eyeshadow. I acknowledged his presence with a single word: "Dad."

And then he hit me. It was the first time he had struck me, and I remember seeing his hand coming towards me in slow motion. He hit me, hard, on the left cheek, bruising my skin and awakening me from my trance.

I stared up at him in shock, expecting to see the same expression on his face. Instead, I was confronted with a look of utter hatred, an expression I had only ever seen before when he talked about mass murderers and bank robbers. When he spoke, his voice was a harsh snarl: "Take it off. All of it. Put it back."

I shook my head almost invisibly. "No." I whispered. "No, I won't."

"What?" he asked, incredulous.

"I said no. She's coming back. I know it." I repeated.

"Listen. She is _not coming back. _She left you. She went back to the future, where she came from. She went back to Molly, her other daughter, and her life as a psychiatrist." He paused to draw breath. I didn't dare contradict him. "She didn't _want _you."

"No," I whispered. "That's not true –"

"Yes it is, _Lena._" I hated the way he sneered my name. "She never wanted you, and I never wanted you either. You were an accident!"

I was too shocked to speak, and the fight seemed to have gone out of my father. In that instant, my entire view of my mother changed completely. She went from being my role model, someone to miss, to admire, to yearn for, to a person I loathed. The image I held in my head changed from a smart woman dressed in a neat blouse and pressed trousers, sipping wine elegantly, to a drunken woman falling off her barstool, and my father picking her up, kissing her drunkenly, before lurching away with her tucked under his arm.

In that instant, I hated my mother.

"I hate her!" I snarled, "I hate her so much! I'll kill her –" I never finished that sentence, because my father lashed out again, catching the same cheek with his left hand. The stone from his ring slashed at my skin, and the pain was awful. As I toppled to the floor, almost unconscious, he walked towards the kitchen and whispered:

"No you don't, Bolls. Not really."

Vision Of Violence

_The vision came from nowhere. One second I was driving along South Bank, minding my own business, and the next, I was in a dark sitting room, staring at myself lying on the floor, immobile, clutching one side of my face with a bandaged hand. I saw Gene walking away from me, and I heard him whisper something to the injured me that I couldn't quite catch, but I got the word "Bolls." _

_It was at that instant my car smashed through the wall at the side of the road and into the icy water of the Thames. _

_I never regained consciousness in the future, instead I awoke in 1999. _

_I realised that the so-called "me" lying prone on the floor was Lena. And I realised what had happened._

"_Gene." I spoke only one word, but he turned around instantly. His face registered surprise, confusion and love before his eyes went to Lena, and his face emptied of all emotion. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so I cut in on top of him. "Gene, you really shouldn't have done that."_

_And with that, I went to my daughter's side and stared down at her beautiful face, so like me, and yet so unique. She looked peaceful, lying there with her eyes closed. Like she was asleep. I couldn't bring myself to touch her, content as I was to simply look at her._

Triggering Truth

As I lay, bleeding carefully onto my bandaged hand, desperate not to enrage my father any further, there was a slight disturbance in the air behind me, and a split-second later, I heard a cut-glass voice say my father's name. He made no response to what she said, and I realised that whoever this person was, my father was in awe of her.

My father came over to me, and knelt on my left. I squeezed my eyes tight shut, and I sensed his hand coming towards me rather than saw it. Flinching away instinctively, I felt something behind me, preventing me from cowering away from my father. Sighing inwardly, I snapped my opens open…

…And for the first time since I was a tiny baby, I stared into the hazel, intelligent eyes of my mother – in the flesh at last. I was amazed, and felt a rush of warm love inside me. Staring around, I caught sight of my father's worried face, and I remembered my hatred.

Screaming, I sat up perfectly straight, and lunging towards my father, I had shoved my hand into his pocket, drawn out his pistol, cocked it, and levelled it at Alex's – I couldn't bring myself to call her Mum – head. "I hate you!" I screamed. "You left me! You went back to _Molly,_ back to the _future_, and left me here alone. Oh, yes, I know you didn't want me. I know that I was an _accident. _I hate you! I bloody hate you!" I kept my aim steady, but my hand trembled.

She smiled at me, and I felt my resolve wavering. "You won't shoot me," she whispered. "You could…" she tailed off as she realised what I had said. I pressed the gun closer to her temple, but she continued to reason with me, as calmly as she could: "You won't shoot me, Lena, and the reason that you won't shoot me is that you know that what your father said wasn't true, and you know that we both wanted – and indeed still want you – very much. You want the truth, and for that reason, you won't shoot me."

I knew she had a point, and throwing the gun onto the sofa, where it went off with a loud _bang! _I fell into my mother's arms, a place that felt both achingly familiar and inexplicably alien.

I could feel her hands rubbing soothing circles on my back, and stroking my hair. She was leant over me protectively, and I was half on, half off her lap. She shifted slightly, and it took a second for me to realise that she was trying to position herself between my father and me. Closing my eyes, I leant into her, and she placed one hand on my good cheek and whispered: "It's OK, sweetheart. It's OK. I'm here. You're safe."

At some point, my father left, and I heard the sound of the Quattro driving away – muffled somewhat by my mother's arms.

Gradually, my tears stopped, and both Mum and I began to look around and at each other properly. The first thing that she noticed was not the circles of photographs, not the bad décor, not even the framed photograph of her and my father on the wall. She didn't comment on the streaked eyeshadow, or the blood on my cheek, or my bandaged hand. Grasping me by the shoulders, sitting me up straight and examining me critically, she asked me, half jokingly: "Lena, why are you wearing my clothes?"


	2. Chapter 2

Deceit And Despair

_I couldn't believe how like me she was. The eyes, the hair, the mannerisms. How could she be so like a mother – my eyes filled briefly with tears – she had never met?_

_I hated to think about that. It made me feel so guilty, although it had never been my choice to return to the future. I owed that entirely to –_

_Lena's voice cut into my thoughts. Her tone was apologetic, and at first I couldn't tell why: "Mum… I'm bleeding… your top…"_

_I was still feeling odd – disorientated from arriving back with Gene, and intoxicated with seeing Lena – and I could only whisper back: "What?"_

"_Your top… my hand… my cheek… jeans…" _

_Looking down, I saw at once what she meant. My top and jeans were soaked in blood, that I realised was flowing freely from her cheek, and seeping slowly through the bandage around her hand. _

"_Oh sweetheart," my voice cracked slightly, my eyes filling with tears, and I single drop splashed onto the slash in her cheek. "Let me get changed and I'll take you down to hospital. OK?" _

_She nodded, and her hair flopped over one eye like mine used to. I brushed it gently behind her ear, and she closed her eyes slowly. Her breathing rate dropped, and the rise and fall of her chest became more infrequent. "Lena? Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay awake." There was no response, and rushing to the phone, I dialled 9-9-9, all the while keeping one eye on Lena. Hanging up a few moments later, I lifted her carefully and manoeuvred through the flat into my room. Gently laying her on the bed, I pulled the first thing my hands touched out of the wardrobe and put it on. Looking in the mirror, I sighed. It was the beautiful gray dress that I had worn when I first arrived here._

_A loud knocking at the front door interrupted my train of thought. Blinking, I composed my thoughts as best as I could before walking briskly to the front door, lifting the pistol from the sofa and dropping it into the conveniently open drawer of the dresser, and wiping the bloody handprint from the wall with the back of a jacket I hoped was Gene's as I went. _

_Opening the front door, I was confronted by two paramedics who looked fairly uncomfortable with the whole situation. It suddenly struck me as what it must appear like to them: a smartly – if hastily – dressed, attractive woman who must have been home alone with her daughter suddenly "finds" said daughter semi-conscious with a bloody hand and slashed cheek. The thought that someone else would think I would ever lay a finger on Lena was horrible, and I tried to calm their silent worries: "I haven't… I would never… I just found… please…" _

_A look passed between them, and I realised that I had failed to quash their fears. Ushering them inside, I led the way to my room, before realising how suspicious that made me look too. The paramedics exchanged another look, and I excused myself, rushing to the bathroom, where, slamming the door, I slid to the floor and dissolved into silent, angry sobs. _

_Drying my tears with a wad of toilet paper, I stood, straightened my hair and smiled, before silently leaving the bathroom and returning to Lena. I got a little way further along the hallway, before I heard the paramedics discussing me and froze. _

"_Come on, Val. Smart, attractive woman like that? Home alone after a night on the town? Poor kid didn't stand a chance. I'm guessing that Mummy came home with some bloke she picked up at the wine bar, kid tries to send him home so Daddy doesn't find out, and the woman chucks a glass at her when she won't shut up…"_

_I was appalled, and I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me. I tried to remain calm, knowing I would only "confirm" the stereotypical image they were constructing if I went in there, all guns blazing, but I couldn't help it. Striding in, my eyes flashed with anger as I spoke:_

"_Excuse me? I'd just like to inform you that I would never lay a finger on Lena. It wouldn't even have been possible for me to, seeing as I only arrived back here thirty minutes ago…"_

"_Back, miss? Have you been somewhere? Where?" the paramedic smirked. _

"_I've been…" I paused, unsure how to carry on. "I've been away, for a very long time. I couldn't come home…"_

"_Well, I bet you couldn't." I hated the tone he was taking with me, but before I could say anything more they had picked the stretcher with Lena on and headed out to the ambulance. Shutting the door behind me automatically, I realised I didn't have a key. Oh well, I thought. I can always nip down and see Gene and get one off him whilst they were treating Lena. _

_Which was when I realised I didn't have any money, in fact I didn't know if the number for Gene's office phone was still the same, and I sighed. Well, if all else failed I could always kick the door in, I mused, before remembering the two inch heels I was wearing. Damn. _

_Following Lena into the ambulance, I realised she was fishing around in the breast pocket of my jacket. With a tired but triumphant smile, she withdrew her hand and held it out to me. Gently I took the leather bound package from her, and opening it up, I was stunned to see my warrant card, still valid until the new Millennium. How strange that sounded, for the second time in my life. _

_Squeezing Lena's hand reassuringly, I turned to the paramedic and flashing both my warrant card and a dazzling smile, I watched his face pale as he took it in – my name, my rank – and realising what he had done._

"_Detective Inspector Alex Drake, CID. You have just indirectly accused a senior police officer of assault, and I am therefore going to have to take you into the station for questioning."_

Stolen, Silenced And Saddened

When I regained consciousness for more than a few seconds, I was alone. My hand hurt like hell, and looking down I saw it had been neatly wrapped in a clean bandage. Raising my good hand to my face, I felt a dressing taped to my cheek, and resisted the urge to rip it away. The curtain at the end of my bed swished back abruptly, and a nurse stepped through. She smiled when she saw I was awake, and gave me a glass of water when I tried – and failed – to speak.

"Your mum had to go down to the station. She should be back –"

With that, the curtain swished again, and Mum stepped through, her face lit up when she saw me, and I reached out my arms like a small child would.

"Hello sweetheart," she said, her voice and smile strained. "Sorry about that. If you get your stuff ready then your Dad will drive us home –"

The nurse cut in on top of her, but Mum wasn't having any of it. Her eyes turned steely, and her tone was hard. "My daughter has had a difficult day. She has obtained a severe injury and got concussion, and I think what she needs now is to go home. My husband and I will take excellent care of her, I can assure you."

The nurse nodded in defeat. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I realised I was still wearing Mum's jacket, and shrugging it carefully off, I handed it to her. "Thanks," she whispered. Sliding down, I staggered slightly, and she caught my arm. I turned to thank the nurse, but she was already tidying the small cubicle, so turning I ran to keep up with Mum as she strode purposefully towards the exit.

"Mum?" I asked, my voice quiet and calm. "What's the official story as to why I'm in here?" she made no indication she had heard, her eyes remaining dead ahead, but she suddenly started talking. To a casual observer, she seemed to be talking to herself.

"It was your birthday. You were emotional because I wasn't home from America yet. You punched a mirror, and then when you went to clean your hand in the kitchen you tripped and put out your hand to protect yourself. You fell awkwardly onto your hand, and a bit of glass dug into your cheek. I got home from America, found you in the hallway, unconscious, and whilst tending to you I got blood on my travelling clothes. I carried you into my room while I got changed, which is where you were when the paramedics arrived. No one was implicated, no one can be blamed. Simple."

I nodded, but a single tear welled and ran down my cheek. Mum sighed, and stopped walking. Turning to face me, she brushed it away gently, and hugged me. "What is it? What's the matter?" she asked. "Is it getting in a car with Dad? Is it me? Are you scared I'm going to leave again?"

I shook my head slowly, then with more conviction. "No, Mum. It's not you, it's me. God, I sound like a middle-aged woman," We both laughed at my feeble joke. "I've put you to all this trouble… and… well… sorry…"

Shaking me by the shoulders, her expression turned severe. "You will never be any trouble to me. Never. I love you more than anything. OK?"

I nodded, and taking my hand, she led me out of the hospital and into my father's Audi. An action that would change my life forever.

As I dozed in the back seat, Mum and Dad had the kind of conversation adults only have when they assume you are asleep, or out of hearing range, or listening to very loud music on your Walkman.

"So, Gene. What did I miss?" Mum asked. A perfectly innocent question that any parent returning from a business trip might ask.

"Well, you missed you daughter growing up, Shaz's kids, Princess Di dying, but I guess that's already happened I your world…" Dad said flippantly.

"Gene, I'm bloody serious. Where's Lexi? What time will she be home from school?" Mum sounded worried.

Then my brain engaged properly. Sitting bolt upright, I asked loudly: "Who's Lexi?"

Alex spun round to face me. "What do you mean "Who's Lexi?"" She asked.

"Mum, I'm serious. Who's Lexi?" I asked again.

"No-one. She's… no-one important. Go back to sleep." I knew she was lying, but I let it drop. Laying back down, I closed my eyes once more.

The next time I awoke, I was in my own bed, still fully clothed, on top of the covers, which had twisted themselves around my legs. At first, I couldn't figure out why I had woken up. Then I heard the voices. Mum and Dad. Shouting. It took me a while to tune in, but when I did, I was intrigued.

"Where the hell is she? Tell me, Gene! Tell me the truth!" Mum yelled.

"She was taken, OK? From my car! About three months after you bloody well left!" Dad was really starting to lose it. I could tell from his tone.

"_You_ _left them alone in a car? While you were doing what?" _Mum again.

"I was on a job. It was only a second, whilst I took a leak. I turned around and there was a bloke in a dark sweatshirt and balaclava with his head in the window. I yelled at him, and when he turned around he was holding Lexi. It was only because I saw him when I did that he didn't take Lena too! He ran off, and I tried to catch him, but he had a car…" Dad was getting upset, and trying to disguise it with anger. I was shocked. Who _was _Lexi?

"_So why aren't you out there bloody looking for her?_" Mum screamed.

"I tried, Alex. I looked for two years, but then the new Superintendent ordered me to drop the case. I wanted to carry on, but they said Lexi was probably dead… I had to stop. We've got Lena… surely…?" I could tell Dad was really being pushed to the limit.

"But she's our _daughter!_" Mum was furious.

That was it. Striding out of my room, I slammed into the lounge. "That's it. I want answers. Who the _hell _is Lexi?" I was shouting to, but I didn't care.

Dad looked at Mum. "You mean she doesn't _know_?" Mum whispered. Dad shook his head. "Why the bloody hellnot? You didn't think to tell her she had a twin sister?" Mum was livid.

I was in shock. A twin? My body failed to process the information it was receiving, and I simply heard the words repeating, over and over in my head:

_Lexi – twin – snatched – Quattro – Lena too – sorry – dead – Lexi – twin – snatched…_

I staggered forwards a single step, head spinning, before sitting down with a bump next to Mum on the sofa. My mind was a whirl of colours, images, words, snatches of memory, and my brain overloaded. Falling into Mum's lap, I blacked out.

Anguish Of Existence

_Gently, I stroked Lena's hair back from her face. She looked incomplete, as though she could never be whole until she found the missing half of her soul that was Lexi. Looking at Gene, I could see the pain on his face, and I remembered seeing a documentary on TV about twins, separated aged five, who slowly pined away for each other until their reunion. With Lena, it was different. She had never known her twin within her memory, but without knowing her body had pined, and with the sudden shock of this revelation, the enormity of the truth hit her properly. _

_She needed her sister. Our family would never be whole without her, a missing piece in the jigsaw of our lives. Until I found out where Lexi was, I couldn't rest. Gently transferring Lena's head to a sofa cushion, I stood, and striding over to the telephone, I picked up the receiver and paused, scrabbling around the sideboard looking for a telephone book. "What are you looking for Bolls?" Gene asked._

"_A phone book." I replied, and he looked mystified. "I'm calling the station. I'm transferring the case."_

_* * *_

_One hundred and thirty miles away, in Cardiff, a girl was staring at the stars from the window of a small detached house. Bouncing her baby daughter on one hip, she stared up at the constellations, naming each one silently. Her eyes were, as usual, inexplicably drawn to the moon, and she stared up at it in wonder._

_After she dragged her eyes away, the image of the perfect, luminous sphere stayed in her mind's eye. Closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly, and when she opened them, the reflection staring back at her was not her own._

_It was a woman, about late thirties, with bright hazel eyes and a mop of wavy brown hair. Leaning against her shoulder was a slumbering girl, who looked identical to the woman in every way, but had a dressing taped to one cheek. The woman was supporting the girl gently, and as she looked, she leant her head forwards awkwardly as though she was resting her head against a window. _

_Looking up through her eyelashes, the woman smiled, and shifted the girl's weight slightly. "Lexi Tyler Hunt," the reflection whispered. "I WILL find you."_

_Raising her hand, she placed it, palm down, fingers splayed, against the window. The girl raised her own hand to meet the woman's, and she whispered too. "And I you," she said. "And I you."_

_With that, the woman and the girl faded slowly. Lexi smiled. She had a mission._

Leaving Lies

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars Blu-Tacked to my bedroom ceiling, I made up my mind. I needed to find my sister. Mum and Dad needed to find her. I would go, and I would find her, and I would bring her home.

The issue resolved, I glanced at my bedroom clock. It was half past twelve. As quietly as I could, I swung my legs over to the edge of the bed and got up. Flying around the room, I rifled through drawers, cupboards and my wardrobe, pulling things out at random – phone, money, change of clothes, Walkman – and leaving the remnants in disarray. At some point, blood started to seep through the bandage around my hand, although I barely noticed. I knew I couldn't leave by the front door, as then Mum and Dad – who were downstairs at Luigi's – would see me. To leave, I would have to climb out of my bedroom window – a good fifteen metres above the ground – and shin down the drainpipe.

A rucksack hastily packed, my room a mess, my hand bleeding, I knew there was only one more thing I needed. Cracking open my bedroom door as silently as possible, even though my parents were several floors below me in a noisy bar, I crept down the hall into my father's room and went to the bottom left drawer of the wardrobe, where I knew he kept his gun. Pulling it open, I looked at the pistol lying there. It glinted at me alluringly, and picking it up, I carried it through to my room along with a handful of ammunition. Throwing the pistol down on the bed, I shoved the ammo in my bag…

…Which was when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Swinging my rucksack onto my shoulders, I slid up the casement window and stepped cautiously onto the ledge outside. Edging along nervously, I soon felt the reassuring smooth, icy metal of the drainpipe beneath my fingers and grasping it firmly, I slid down, landing a second later in the alleyway next to Luigi's. Above me, I heard my bedroom door slam with a loud _bang _but I was already running, down the alleyway and onto the main street, never once looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

**OK. Here's Part Three! I hope you like the shock twist (dun dun dunnnnnn) and I hope you're liking the story so far! Big thanks to Claudia for telling me this is good, it means a lot!**

Shooting And Sobriety

_As I climbed the stairs, Gene by my side, both of us equally tipsy from the champagne we had drunk – in more reasonable amounts than way back when – I heard a resonating bang from above me. "No," I whispered. "Lena?" I shouted, hoping against hope that she would answer, shout back, tell me she was there, she was OK. _

_But there was no response. Sobering up instantly, I ran the rest of the way, leaving Gene behind me. Fumbling my key in the lock, I slammed into the flat, running into Lena's room, hoping she was asleep, yet already fearing the worst._

_The room was in total disarray. Clothes and books were scattered everywhere, there was blood on the furniture and – I stepped closer with a feeling of cold dread in my stomach – a gun on the bed. A bloodstained gun. I fell to my knees. I was dimly aware of Gene entering the room behind me, but I didn't move. I was frozen in shock._

"_Bloody hell…" I heard Gene say, and that's when I started crying. Silent tears of loss, regret, anger… Coming over to where I was knelt, he put his arm around my awkwardly, and looked down at the bed. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "No…"_

_Standing, he ran to the window, and leaning as far out as he dared, he screamed: "Lena? LENA?" _

_From outside, I was suddenly aware of the oppressing silence. That was when I really looked at the gun. Really looked at it. And I saw the words "Gene Hunt" carved into the metal on the side._

"_Gene?" my voice was hoarse. "Look." Coming over, he leant down to look at the gun. _

"_Those bastards," he swore. "I'll bet it's the ones who took Lexi. When we find them, we'll shoot every single person in that building. Every single one."_

Hitchhiking

I ran at full pelt for ten minutes, slowing as I looked around and took in my surroundings. I was around a minute away from the motorway that led to… well, where I wasn't sure. I had no idea where Lexi would be, so, pulling open my bag, I slid out the file I had found at the back of the drawer with my father's gun in. Opening it, I found a neatly filled-in Missing Persons Form, with an artist's impression of Lexi attached. At the bottom of the form, it read "Suspected Location: Cardiff" so, closing it again and shoving it back into my bag, I stood and walked to the road, sticking out my thumb and hoping that someone would stop.

The first vehicle that stopped was a young couple, a dark haired man of about twenty and a brunette woman who looked about twenty three. "Where are you heading for?" he asked me, in a soft Welsh accent, and stared at me with wide chocolate eyes. I smiled as alluringly as I dared, and said "Cardiff," in a sunny voice. He looked at his girlfriend in surprise, before she leant over and unlocked the back door.

"We're just heading back to university there! We've been staying with a friend in London for a few days. I'm Sian, and this is Rob. We're both reading History, second year." She gushed, again in the curious Welsh burr. I clambered in, dazed, amazed at this generous couple. As I climbed into the bright interior of the small car, Sian sucked in her breath sharply. "Your cheek! What happened…" she trailed off, waiting for my name. raising my hand to stroke the soft dressing, I shrugged. "It's… Alice. Oh, I tripped over at school. I'm so clumsy, I'm always falling over." The lie came easily. I was shocked.

"You poor thing!" she exclaimed. "You look shattered. Feel free to put your head down for a bit. We'll wake you up when we get close." I nodded, realising how tired I really was. Plumping up my rucksack, I placed it at one end of the seat and lay my head on it. It was a little uncomfortable, but I was past caring. I fell asleep almost instantly.

The radio snapped on, loudly playing the latest Spice Girls track. Sitting up with a start, I forgot where I was for a second. Looking around me, I remembered Lexi, Cardiff, Rob and Sian. Rob was smiling at me in the rear view mirror. "Morning. Nearly in the centre of Cardiff now. We'll have to throw you out a bit away from the actual centre, as the university's not bang in the middle." He explained, and I nodded sleepily.

The car drew to a halt about ten minutes later, outside a large building with a grand façade. "Here you go," Sian said. "The train station. For three pounds you can get an all-day train ticket. You'll need the blue line to get to the centre. Good luck."

Stumbling out of the car, I thanked them profusely and entered the bustling train station.

Inside, the clock read "10:01." There was a train every three or four minutes, and, still yawning, I walked towards the ticket office. Above the door, the sign was written in both English and another, strange language – Welsh, I assumed. I bought a ticket – the all-day pass Sian had mentioned – and went to sit on the platform.

I sat at the extreme end of an ornate wrought-metal bench, and pulled my Walkman out of my bag. Pulling on the headphones, I pressed play and absorbed myself in the world of Iron Maiden. I was nodding my head along when it occurred to me I was a little conspicuous. Carefully, I retrieved my best blue-tinted Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses from my bag and slid them on, before immersing myself back in the song. I didn't notice the boy with the tanned skin and floppy blonde hair staring at me, before pulling a notebook out of his pocket and checking something. Coming over to sit beside me, he pointed at the Walkman and asked: "What are you listening to?"

Shoving the earphones down around my neck and hitting pause, I smiled at him. I had noted the accent, still Welsh, but cut-glass, posh, that was out of keeping with the grungy sweatshirt and ripped jeans. "Iron Maiden," I replied, and he smiled. "My favourite!" he replied, and we entered into a detailed conversation about the latest releases, which continued onto the train, progressing onto other matters when we got off in the city centre. His name was Tom, he said, and he was seventeen. I found myself opening up to him, telling him my real name, my age, about London. We were outside the Virgin Record Store when he stopped suddenly and reached out to grab my arm. I laughed and looked his eyes, where I was shocked to see the seriousness in them. I stopped laughing abruptly. "Lena, I need to know: what's your mother's name?" he asked me, all hint of laughter gone from his tone.

"Alex," I whispered. "Alex Drake." His expression changed again, his eyes becoming shocked and his mouth opening to an "o" of amazement. "What?" I asked, worried.

"She said you'd come. She _said. _She was right. She's always right." He said, no longer whispering.

"Who said? _Who, _Tom?" I asked urgently.

"Lexi. Lexi said you'd come." He responded.

"You… know her?" I whispered, tears tracking down my cheeks. He nodded. "You – know – my – sister?" I spelled out, and he nodded again. "Take me to her." I said, and it was an instruction, not a question. He nodded again and, seizing my hand began dragging me through the bemused shoppers. As we reached the exit, he hailed a taxi, and sliding my sunglasses off, he tied the scarf that had been previously employed as a belt around my eyes and placed my Walkman headphones over my ears again and turned the volume right up, until it almost breached the pain threshold. Leading me into the taxi, I knew my life was in his hands.

Death Of A Daughter

_I sighed and thumped my head onto the desk in frustration. Since I had last been in Fenchurch East Police Station, they had brought in a whole new set of rules. Largely involving paperwork. Raising my head slightly and peering over my arms, I glared at the offending pile of papers in front of me. Gene was stood at the window, a glass of Scotch in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. Even the walkie-talkies were different, slimmer than their eighties counterparts. Pressing a button, Gene barked "Blitz, come in. Come in Blitz. Over." Into the mouthpiece. There was a rush of static, and then Chris's voice: "Guv, do I have to be Blitz? I sound like a bloody sheepdog. Over"_

"_Yes, Chris you do. Now then, Blitz. Come in. Over." Gene repeated._

"_No sign, guv. I mean, Spitfire. Been round to all her usual spots, school, back to the flat. Nothing. Over." Chris sounded weary, upset, and I realised that he would have been instrumental in Lena's upbringing, almost like her uncle. _

"_Bugger. Over." Gene said, and threw the walkie-talkie onto the desk. It landed next to a photograph of Lena, taken when she must have been about ten. She had a gap-toothed smile, and was stood with Shaz, who was looking down at her tenderly. Angrily, I turned the photo round and sat up, lifting a tumbler of Scotch off the tray beside me and downing it in one, before slamming it down half-heartedly. "Bolls, we'll find her. Don't you worry your pretty little head. We'll find her." Gene reassured, and I tried to believe him. _

"_We'll find them, and we'll give them a bollocking they'll never forget. Now, what say we leave this paperwork to Shaz, then get our jackets and fire up the Quattro?" He offered me his hand with a wicked glint in his eyes. Smiling impishly, I took his hand and stood. _

"_To the Quattro." I said, some hint of the old me in my tone. _

_As we sat at the end of the road, staring into the greying dawn light, I realised we had no definitive idea of where either Lena or Lexi might be. "Gene… where are we actually going?" I asked, and he started. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine caught below us, protesting loudly. _

"_Cardiff," he replied. "That's where Lexi is. That's where they'll have taken her."_

"_Cardiff? How the bloody hell did you reach that conclusion?" I asked incredulously. _

_Looking over at him as we turned onto the M4, I saw his face was sombre. _

"_About a year after she was… taken, we got sent a Polaroid photo. She was sat on a bench by the sea, and we identified the scenery as Cardiff. But no-one in Wales wanted to help us, bloody ponces. Said they didn't want to get involved. It might upset some people, they said. So the case went cold. Whoever took Lena took the file. Therefore they know where Lexi is, and they think that I – in my "old age" – would have forgotten. Well I haven't, as they are bloody well about to find out!" he stormed._

"_Cardiff, then." I whispered, to no-one in particular. _

Living Lexi's Life

I finally felt the taxi judder to a halt after what felt like forever. My CD had stopped playing, and the repeat was off, so I heard a rustle of notes before the driver could speak, and then Tom took my hand and pulled me out onto the street. Before I could shake the feeling back into my legs or draw breath properly, I had been bundled into the back of yet another car. This journey was shorter, and when we stopped, I clutched Tom's hand hard as he led me out. He squeezed back tightly and led me carefully up a flight of stairs and through a doorway, into what seemed like a cavernous space. My footsteps echoed off the walls and floor, and as he slid my headphones off and undid the blindfold, I gasped.

I was stood in an entrance hall, the size of several rooms at home. The floors were white tiles, and the walls were grey marble. The ceiling was delicately painted with intricate friezes, and inlaid with shimmering shards of mirror. My gaze shifted to the stairway, which led down from an open sided corridor that led to the upper floor, flanked with more grey marble, this time pillars.

But the stairways paled into insignificance when I caught sight of the figure elegantly descending the stairs. She was wearing a long black top over white skinny jeans, and on her feet were ballet pumps. Around her neck was a string of beautiful white pearls, and there were webs of silver and diamonds hanging from her ears. I didn't not notice her clothes or jewellery though. I was instead captivated by two things.

The first was the delicate white mask that covered the upper half of her face. It was sparkling in the light thrown from the chandeliers above me, and from the eye holes two bright blue eyes sparkled. Her hair was pale brown, and swept back with a clasp at the nape of her neck, and as she turned slightly to face me I saw why.

Slung across her back in a black sling was a baby. It looked about one, and like the girl had sparkling blue eyes. However, it had a head of wavy blonde hair, and there was no doubt as I looked at it that it was this girl and Tom's.

The girl reached the bottom of the stairs, and adjusted the sling expertly so the baby was slung across her front. Tom ran at the pair from nowhere, and I saw he had changed his shirt and put on clean jeans. He caught the girl in his arms and kissed her briefly, before lifting the baby from its sling and bouncing it on his hip. The girl turned to face me, and smiled. Her teeth sparkled at me, as white as the pearls at her throat, and when she spoke it was with the same cut-glass Welsh accent.

"Lena," she whispered, and pulled back the mask. And for the first time in fifteen years I stared deep into my sister's eyes, before falling into her arms and embracing her. "Lexi," I whispered into her hair, and pulling back, she stared at me quizzically. "What?" I asked, and she frowned slightly.

"Where is she?" she whispered. "Where's the woman who was with you?"

I was momentarily confused until I realised she meant Mum. "She… she's in London. She doesn't know I'm here. I ran away. I needed to find you." I told her, and her brow crinkled in puzzlement.

"No, that's no good. I need her too. Will she come? Will she follow you?" Lexi asked urgently.

"I.. don't know." I remembered the gun-on-bed fiasco. "She thinks I'm dead. She might follow me, but I don't know. If she doesn't kill Dad, she might come, but…" Lexi cut me off with a wave of her hand. I felt a little bemused.

"Of course. The blood from your hand–" I was impressed with her deduction skills "– but Dad is _dead._" It wasn't a question. "He died, saving you. She saved me, he saved you. He went back for me, but I was gone. The car blew up. He _died. _She…" – she pointed at the baby – "Is named after the car it happened in: Ada Catrin for Audi Quattro. He's _dead._"

I shook my head in amazement. Whoever had taken her had lied. "No," I whispered. "He's alive, and…"

I was cut off by footsteps from the top of the stairs. Snapping my head up, I observed the newcomer with a sense of cold fascination. She was tall and slim, with deep chestnut hair that waved halfway to her waist. Her skin was pale, and it contrasted with her deep red dress, which hugged her slim figure to her knees. As she descended, she opened her perfect mouth and spoke, in an accent I realised with a shock was not Welsh but London. Posh London.

"This is a lovely little family reunion and all, but where the hell are Gene and Alex?"

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she stuck out a hand to me, and I shook it disdainfully. Smiling icily, she asked me contemptuously: "Don't you recognise me, Lena?"

Looking her up and down, I finally conceded: "No, I'm sorry, I don't think I know you." She sneered, an expression which made her look even more chillingly beautiful.

"Why, Lena, I think your father knew mine. He shot him…" she sneered.

"Well, my father shoots a lot of people. I can't expect to remember them all, and definitely not their children. Especially if said children are quite a lot older than me." I replied, icily polite. Tom and Lexi caught the sarcasm at the beginning, but the woman missed it. Sucking her breath in sharply, she replied snootily:

"Well, he would remember my father. As would, I'm sure, your dear mother, as she had a large part to play in the whole scheme. Framing him for corruption, and then Gene trying to shoot him with his _own gun…_" She broke off to dab at her eyes. Something in my memory clicked, and I realised who she meant. Detective Chief Superintendent Charlie Mackintosh. Supermac. He had been a corrupt officer, and after he was found out,, my father tried to wrest his gun from him to stop him committing suicide. In the ensuing scuffle, the gun fired a single fatal round, and Mac died in my father's arms, my mother looking on, horrified. This woman had got it horribly wrong. I gasped.

"Then you must be…" I whispered.

She sneered. "Victoria Mackintosh. And I can't wait for your mother and father to arrive, so I can get my revenge at last. A father for a father."


	4. Chapter 4

**For Kelly. You WILL scream. **

Hard Hitting Honesty

_We drove in silence for an hour, until, out of the blue, Gene spoke. His voice was thick with tears – a tone I had heard only twice before in my time with him. "I hit her," he whispered, and his voice broke slightly on the last word. "I hit Lena. I swore I would never, ever hurt her, and I broke my promise. I was just so angry. I didn't think, I just reacted. I forgot the ring, I meant to… I don't know." As he spoke, I kept my eyes on the simple engagement ring on his left hand. A band of platinum, with a single jet embedded in it. A ring I had chosen carefully after he proposed to me, all those years back, in 1983. my mind wandered, and I found myself back in Luigi's, on that wonderful night…_

_I was sat in the corner, a half-empty bottle of sparkling water next to me. I had just discovered I was three months pregnant, and was waiting to tell Gene. He walked in, and my heart started pounding. I felt a tiny flutter from my stomach, and smiled. "Bolly," Gene acknowledged, sitting in the chair opposite me, picking up the pint of beer I had ordered for him only moments previously. _

"_Gene," I started nervously. He looked at me expectantly. "Gene… I'm pregnant." I whispered, and he froze in shock, his glass halfway to his mouth. He set it down cautiously. _

"_You quite sure it's mine?" He asked, but before I could respond he had ploughed on. "It had better be. If I find out you've been dropping your knickers to all and sundry and claiming it's mine then… well." He sucked his breath in through his teeth. I felt a rush of anger. _

"_Of course it's bloody yours! I _love _you more than life itself, and I love this baby too." I snapped half-heartedly, my voice breaking at the end. _

"_Shit." Gene said, and I smiled. This was the reaction I had been anticipating. I reached out and took one of his rough hands in mine and laid it gently on my stomach, before staring deep into his eyes. He shifted embarrassedly, but I felt another fluttering from my stomach. His eyes widened in shock, but he left his hand there until the fluttering had eased before pulling his hand away and delving into a pocket in his jacket. _

"_Well, I was going to do this anyway. Figured it was about time I made an honest woman of you and all. But now, well…" he trailed off and pulled out a small black velvet box. Snapping it open, he asked that famous question: "Alex Drake, will you marry me?" he asked, and I nodded, two tears tracking silently down my cheeks. He whipped the ring out of the box and slid it deftly onto my ring finger. It sparkled in the candlelight, a beautiful band of platinum embedded with three sparkling diamonds. It was an unusually elegant and tasteful ring for him to choose, and an unusually romantic thing for Gene to do. "Luigi!" he shouted. "A bottle of your finest champ – " I coughed discreetly and nodded downwards subtly. "Ah. A bottle of lemonade, and your finest orange juice, not the usual muck you serve the kiddies." _

"_Certainly, Signor Hunt. Right away, Mr Hunt." Luigi replied happily, and scuttled off to fetch the drinks. _

_Taking my hand, Gene kissed it tenderly before turning it over and clasping it tightly. "I love you," he whispered, and I responded simply:_

"_I love you too."_

"_Alex? Alex?" Gene's voice brought me back to the present with a jolt. _

"_What?" I asked, and Gene smiled half-heartedly. _

"_I said she never got her birthday surprise. Got her a car and all. Nice little Ford, not too flash, painted it up nice. Blue. She liked blue. I always said it was a poncey colour, but what she wanted… I couldn't let her down. She'd been hinting for weeks, shown me the one she wanted. I went and bought it a couple of days ago, parked it up at the back of the station. Was gonna give it to her…" he stared at his watch. "Yesterday afternoon. Then she put your clothes on… I lost it… and this whole mess began." He smiled feebly. _

"_Did you spoil her?" I asked abruptly. _

"_No." Gene replied. "I don't think I did. I didn't buy her anything spontaneously, I didn't buy her what she didn't need, but what she needed, if she wanted something better than normal she got it. I gave her a pair of Dolce And Gabbana sunglasses last year. For Christmas I got her a grey Gucci jacket. She loved it. Never took it off. It's gone from her room. They took it with her. They took everything she loved." He stopped, unable to carry on. _

"_I know, Gene. I know." I soothed, before turning my eyes back to the road ahead in time to see the sign that read "Cardiff: 35 miles"_

Captive In Cardiff 

Before I could respond to Victoria, she had clicked her fingers imperiously and two heavy-set men in black suits and shirts had come and seized my arms. As they dragged me off, I saw Victoria wrap her arm protectively around Lexi and walk off with her and Tom. Lexi shrugged Victoria's arm away and whispered something in her ear, before half turning around to look at me. Victoria pulled her around to face the way they were walking, and then my captors pulled me around a corner and Lexi was gone.

In front of me was a plain black door, out of keeping with the grandeur of the rest of the house. Pulling it open, my captors threw me inside, and I landed, palms down, on the cold concrete floor. My hand sent a fiery pain shooting up my arm, and I screamed. The door slammed shut, and I heard the sound of it being locked. Raising my head, I looked around me. I was in a cell, roughly the same size and layout as the ones back at Fenchurch East Station: basic shelf for a bed, couple of blankets, metal sink and a toilet in the corner. I remembered they had been my playpen when I was younger, and I had spent hours in there playing with my father, Chris, Shaz or her son, Ollie, who was the same age as me.

After those early years, he had disappeared from my life, sent to a different school to me, and I had only reacquainted myself with him at the Christmas party last year. He was handsome, I supposed, with black floppy hair and hazel eyes like mine. He was a couple of inches taller than me, and he looked like his mother.

Pulling myself up onto the bed, I continued to reminisce, until I fell into an uneasy sleep. I was awoken several hours later, as a metal tray was shoved through the hatch at the bottom of the door. On it was a bowl of rice puffs, a plastic cup of foul-smelling orange liquid that I assumed was juice, and a cold piece of toast. I ate greedily and washed as best I could in the metal sink. I was drying my face using the corner of the blanket when the window in the door flew open with a loud _crack _and Victoria's eyes appeared. They were sparkling with cold delight, but when she saw me sat submissively on the floor, blanket in hand, her face fell. I remained where I was, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing me shout and scream, and the window shut again.

A key grated in the lock and a second later the door slammed open. She was stood, framed my light, and as my eyes adjusted I saw she was wearing an emerald green blouse with frills down the front, and high-waisted navy jeans. She smiled coldly. "They're here, sweetie," she sneered. "They're in Cardiff. They came for you! But they're not going to see _you. _Oh no! All they'll see is… well, you'll see, won't you!"

And with that, the heavies grabbed my arms and hauled me out into the light.

I was dragged into a room on the ground floor, where Victoria was waiting. Between us was a rack of clothes, and she was admiring a low-cut red top. The heavies released my arms and left quietly, and Victoria handed me the top silently. I stared at it impassively, and she sighed theatrically. "Put it on." She ordered. I shook my head, and quick as a flash, she had pulled a shiny silver pistol from a back pocket and levelled it at my head. "Put it _on_," she repeated, and I nodded, pulling off my jacket and unzipping my jumper, before pulling off my T-shirt.

I slipped the top over my head, and pulled it down. It was uncomfortably snug, but before I could complain, I had been handed a white leather miniskirt and pair of fishnet tights. "I'm not wearing those." I stated, and Victoria brandished the gun again. "Fine, fine," I said, and pulled off my boots and jeans, before rolling the tights on and wiggling awkwardly into the skirt.

"Put these on," Victoria thrust a pair of high-heeled red shoes at me, and I slipped them on obediently. This continued, with her telling me to put this on, do that, until I was wearing the red top and white skirt, the tights and heels, a white fur cape, long diamante earrings, a diamante necklace, red lipstick and plenty of blue eyeshadow. I was staring at myself in the mirror wondrously when she came at me from behind, and tied the mask over my face. For a second, all was confusion as she fiddled with the ribbons at the back, and then it was all lined up properly and I was staring through white and silver eye holes. My face looked completely different. My eyes, nose and cheeks were completely obscured by the fantastic silver mask, and my hair was the only thing that gave it away. Victoria scowled at the reflection and pulled the mask off again, before shoving me firmly into a chair and attacking the offending curls with a straightening iron, until my hair was sleek and shiny.

Tying the mask back on, she looked satisfied, declaring: "Your own mother and father wouldn't recognise you. Which is, of course, the whole point!"

I was confused. Reaching up, my hands went to the ribbon ties at the back of my head. "But I can untie this." I stated, and she laughed, a cruel, harsh sound.

"No you can't," she sneered, and tied a length of ribbon around each wrist, before securing the other end to my belt. I was trapped. I couldn't reach up enough the untie the mask, or undo the knots that held the ribbons to my belt. I realised what she intended to do, and I gasped.

"No. You can't. Please. Please don't…" I pleaded, but she laughed again and tied a scarf around my eyes again. I felt her unwrapping the bandage from my hand, and the smooth feel of short silk gloves. Taking my now-gloved hand, she led me up the stairs, through the maze of corridors, until we stopped in a small room. Untying my blindfold, she slipped out of the room before my eyes could refocus, and I heard a key turn in the lock.

Looking around, I took in my surroundings. There was a thick white carpet on the floor, but it was hard to see it under the pile of cushions that covered the floor. The walls were a deep red, and there was a black chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which glowed dimly. Sobbing silently, I found no tears would come, and collapsed onto the soft silk cushions. They were red, black and white, and smelled strongly of perfume. There, for the second time that day, I fell into a deep sleep, and the last thing I knew was the rev of a sports car accelerating away somewhere below me.

I awoke suddenly. For a moment, I was unsure why I had awoken, until the noise came again. A banging, accompanied by shouting. There was a single gunshot, and the noise stopped. A sudden fear took hold of me, and I was seized by panic. As I listened, the shouting resumed, and I leapt to my feet. Frantically, I rattled the handle, but to no avail. It was well and truly locked.

Over the next hour, the shouting moved from room to room, and as it moved up the stairs, I could make out the words: "Lena? Lexi? Lena? Lexi?" by pressing my ear to the keyhole. I tried to shout, but my mouth was too dry. Before I could swallow, the shouting had stopped outside the door. There was a brief conversation that I couldn't make out the words of, before a single gunshot and the door slammed open.

Stood there, framed in dazzling sunlight, were Mum and Dad.

I smiled broadly, but no recognition registered in their eyes. Raising his gun, Dad levelled it at my head. I was horrified. Swallowing, I whispered: "Please don't shoot me." My voice sounded horribly high.

"Well well, a little hooker. Aren't you a bit young for this, love? To quote ABBA, does your mother know?" He asked, and I realised what Victoria's plan was.

"Please don't shoot me." I repeated, and he sighed. Next to him, Mum frowned slightly.

"Why not, love? I swore to shoot every person in this building if they weren't my daughter, so why shouldn't I shoot you?" He was deadly serious, and I stood, shocked. After a few seconds, he spoke again: "Too long. Guilty." He declared, and I watched in horror as the hammer clicked back and he pulled the trigger. At the last second, Mum threw out her arm, knocking his arm fractionally down and left, and the shot went off course.

Something slammed into my chest, and I stumbled backwards, the breath whooshing from my lungs. Shock flashed across my face, and I fell backwards onto the cushions. Raising my head a fraction, I saw a crimson stain spreading across my top, and I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth against the hot pain.

Spreading Stain

"_No," I whispered. I wanted to go to Lena, but I was frozen, one arm thrown out, staring at her immobile body in horror. From where I was, I could see the stain spreading across her chest, and I was horrified._

"_What the bloody hell did you do that for?!" Gene asked. "She's only a hooker!"_

_With that, I could move, and I ran to Lena's side. Taking her head into my lap, I stared down at the stain that was rapidly turning her red top crimson. Her breath came in great shuddering, rattling gasps. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at me through the eye holes. "Mask," she whispered. "Mask…"_

"_Ssssh," I soothed, "Stop talking." Carefully, I fumbled with the ribbons, and finally got the ties undone. Sliding the mask off, her hair cascaded around her cheeks, too sleek, too straight, but still better than the cold, white mask. There was a clatter from behind me as Gene dropped his pistol._

"_What have I done?" he whispered hoarsely. "What have I done?"_

"_Mum," she whispered, and I turned my attention back to her. Her breathing was laboured, and I could see the irregular rise and fall of her chest. Gently, I placed my hand under her head and raised it slightly, and she coughed once, before her breathing slowed a little. Looking down at her lips, I was shocked at the sight of blood around her lips. Reaching down, I wiped it away with my sleeve, and she gazed up at me apologetically._

"_Mum," she repeated, and I nodded. "I'm sorry, Mum. I've… let you down. I can't… fight it. It's too… painful. Not strong… like you. I… love you…" And with that, her eyes closed, her chest stilled, her breathing ceased, and she grew limp in my arms. _

"_No," I whispered. "No… no…"Laying her head tenderly back onto the pillows, I turned and with rage burning in my eyes, I seized the pistol Gene had dropped only minutes previously and levelled it at his head calmly._

"_One reason, Gene." I shouted, my voice thick with tears and anger. "Give me one good reason why not. After everything you put me through. Alienating Lena. Losing Lexi. Shooting me. Twice. Give me one reason not to shoot you!"_

"_Do it." Gene's voice was subdued, submissive. All the fire was gone. "Shoot me. I'm a monster. A monster. I don't deserve to live. Kill me, please. Put me out of this misery." _

_Behind him, the door opened and a girl slipped in. She had brown hair and blue eyes, and was finely dressed. She went straight to Lena's body, and with a quick, practiced manoeuvre smacked her in the middle of the chest, and Lena took a huge, rattling gulp of air and sat up. I screamed, and dropped the pistol onto the carpeted floor. _

"_Who the hell are you?" I asked, trying desperately to regain my composure. The girl smiled, revealing a mouthful of perfectly white, even teeth and said:_

"_Hello Mum." _

_I gasped, and reaching towards her, I whispered: "Lexi? Is it really you?" and she nodded._

"_Mum, I'd love to stay and chat, but there is a bomb downstairs, and it is going to go off any minute. We need to get out, and fast." She said urgently, and turning, I stared at Gene pleadingly before gathering Lena into my arms and following Lexi from the room. I heard footsteps behind me, and turning my head fractionally I saw Gene behind me. _

_Following Lexi down the stairs, trying desperately to keep my footing on the slippery marble, I realised Gene was no longer following. "Gene!" I shouted, without looking back, continuing my descent until I reached the ground floor. The footsteps restarted, and as I reached the doorway onto the street, I turned._

_In time to see a wave of fire sweep through the hallway, engulfing Gene, shattering tiles and sending lethal shards spinning through the air like razor-sharp throwing knives. I screamed, long and loud, and suddenly Lena was gone from my arms and Lexi was trying to hold me back. I strained against her grip, but she never relinquished it, and I fell into her shoulder, sobbing._

"_Mum?" Lena's voice came from behind me, and I turned to face her, tears pouring down my cheeks. "Where's Dad?" she asked, and I took a gulp of air, almost choking on it in my angst._

"_Lena, sweetheart," I sobbed. "I'm so sorry… he didn't make it." _


	5. Chapter 5

**A shorter bit this time. I hope you all liked being on tenterhooks!**

"_No," she whispered. "No, he can't be. Not Dad! He's the… Manc Lion, the… Gene Genie. Dad doesn't _die_! He bounces back… he always… lives." Lena dissolved into silent tears. _

_How easy she had it, I thought. She can fight the news with steely-hard denial, but I saw what happened. There was no point hoping. No human could have survived that. It was impossible. The cold pain of loss weighed heavy in my heart, and the tears refused to stop flowing down my cheeks. Clutching Lena's ice-cold hand, I tried desperately to hope, to keep alive the thought that Gene might have survived. As Lena's eyes shut once more, an ambulance screeched to a halt beside me. I could see the paramedics inside looking at me, at Lena, putting two plus two together and getting five. Attractive woman, sluttily dressed girl, what else could it be? _

_For once, I was too tired to argue, turning my back to them, to my daughters, to all I held dear, I pulled up the silken scarf I was wearing to cover my nose and ran back inside, desperately searching for Gene._

Parentless And Powerless

I opened my eyes fractionally. The bright fluorescents were agonisingly bright, until something large and golden blocked them out. I opened them wider I relief, and saw a girl, outlined by glowing white. "Am I dead?" I asked, and she hugged me cautiously.

"Lena," she whispered, and I remembered Lexi, Ada, Tom, Victoria – my brow furrowed – Mum and Dad. Then I remembered the explosion. Mum's words. Dad gone. a silent tear slid down my cheek, pooling in my ear.

"Lena, they can't find Mum or Dad. They've gone. No trace of either of them. No… bodies." Lexi's voice broke, and she clutched at me again. I tried to sit up and grimaced. Looking down at my chest, I saw the bulk of the bandages under the hospital gown, and fell backwards abruptly.

"Ow," I said. Lexi smiled at me. Looking her deep in the eyes, I whispered: "Surely no bodies is… better? They can't definitely be dead… if there are no bodies?"

Lexi nodded, and was about to say something else when the curtain swished open again and something black-haired and sobbing took me into it's arms. After a moment, I realised it was Shaz, and behind her stood a disapproving-looking nurse, who sniffed at me irritably as I hugged Shaz back.

"You're OK, you're OK, thank God, you're OK," she sobbed, and I laughed, an action which caused my breath to rattle painfully and send fiery tendrils of pain shooting through my chest. Stepping back, she beckoned to someone, and then stood before me was Ollie.

He looked even more breathtaking than at the office Christmas Party. His hair was a little longer, but his eyes were the same. Staring into them, I realised that I felt something strong for him, something I had never felt before. My heart rate skyrocketed – an embarrassing occurrence due to the heart-rate monitor next to my bed – and I smiled. "Lena," he whispered. "Thank God you're OK."

I was awestruck. "Ollie," I started, but he pressed his finger to my lips and perched on the edge of the bed next to me.

"I know," he whispered, and he took my hand as the nurse began to take readings and check printouts, muttering under her breath in Welsh the whole time. She had barely left when the doors at the end of the ward slammed open. I had time to read the words: "Intensive Care," before my view was obscured by a trolley, surrounded by paramedics. From the monitor beside her came a long continuous beep, and doctors were performing CPR and running as she was wheeled to the cubicle beside me. The paramedics were speaking Welsh, but I caught the only thing that mattered, the only two words I wanted - and yet did not want – to hear:

"Alex Drake."

"Mum?" I asked, my voice wavering and thick with tears. "Mum? _Mum?"_ There was no response and the doctors continued their frantic revival attempts. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and standing shakily, I caught hold of Shaz's arm and walked cautiously over to where she lay, peacefully. She looked asleep, lying there surrounded by desperate medical staff. I slipped my hand into hers and squeezed, before whispering "I love you Mum," and kissing it gently.

There was a sudden, regular beeping from the monitor, and the doctors stilled, their faces breaking into broad smiles. Mum's eyes opened slowly, and she reached up to remove the oxygen mask from her face. A nurse caught her hand, and said firmly: "No, Miss Drake. You inhaled quite a lot of smoke. You need to breathe some of that in, clear your lungs a bit." Mum nodded submissively and laid her hand back on the sheets. She smiled at me broadly, before her eyes wandered to a point behind me. Stood next to Lexi was Tom, and in Lexi's arms was Ada. Mum frowned, and I looked around awkwardly.

"Mum, this is, er, Ada. She's Lexi's daughter…" I said, and Mum smiled, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. She held out her arms, and Lexi understood immediately, sitting Ada next to Mum's head. Stretching out a tiny hand, Ada patted her cheek, before laying her head on Mum's chest and falling asleep. Mum laughed, and removed her oxygen mask in one fluid stroke, the tendons in her wrist standing out as she locked her hand closed around it.

"She's beautiful. And you two… I love you so much, my beautiful girls." She whispered hoarsely. We looked at her expectantly. "But… Gene… there's no sign. I'm so sorry."

It was later that night, as Mum, Lexi and I sat, simply enjoying each other's presence that the nurse arrived with the results of Mum's blood test. Keeping her clipboard tucked firmly into the crook of her elbow, she surveyed our faces gravely, before clearing her throat and announcing: "Miss Drake… we've found traces of a sedative in your blood."

Mum looked shocked, and leant back against her pillows. "What does that mean?" I asked the nurse, and she looked at me with a look that implied I was missing something.

"Well… either your mum is on drugs, or someone drugged her, and is out to get her." She said, rolling her eyes minutely as she did. Turning back to Mum, she fixed her with a suspicious stare.

"You're a police officer. Lots of enemies. Lots of opportunities. Which is it, Miss Drake?" She asked, and Mum blinked in surprise.

"I would never… I could never…" she blustered, before regaining composure. "I remember hearing someone behind me. Something sharp stabbed into my neck, and I fell. The next thing I knew was waking up here. Why? What does it matter?"

The nurse looked disapproving. "It means, Miss Drake, that someone is out to get your family. You should seek police protection." She said, before turning abruptly and exiting the cubicle, leaving us all looking at each other in horror.

"Well, I am the bloody police! If I can't take care of my daughters, then they can take my warrant card. Because I _will _keep you safe." Mum whispered, and Lexi and I squeezed her hands tightly, both of us at a loss for words.

Deviating DCI

_We remained in Cardiff for another two weeks. I was discharged after three days, but they kept Lena in longer. Throughout our stay, I worked closely with the Cardiff Police to try and find Gene. Ultimately, our efforts were unsuccessful: Victoria Mackintosh was long gone, and with her, Gene._

_Returning to London was hard. The flat, although filled with the noise of two teenagers and a baby, seemed impossibly empty. The day the note came was the best and worst day of my life._

_It was slipped through the letterbox late one night. The message was short and to the point:_

"_Lexi for Gene."_

_My first thought was simple: I'll do it. My second thought was guilt. How could I do that? Trade one family member for another? _

_Deep down inside, a tiny part of my brain was shouting "DO IT!" over and over, but the rest was telling me not to. Sighing, I hid the note under the sofa cushion and went to bed. I knew sleep would evade me, but I didn't want to sleep. Sleep makes you forget things, makes things fade. If I slept, the bad dream would come back._

_It was recurring. Gene was in the station, and he was walking away from me. I called his name, but he wouldn't turn around, and I ran after him, but he only speeded up, so I could never catch up. I had woken up screaming several nights in a row, until Lexi and Lena had stopped coming._

_That night, after three sleepless nights, I drifted off. The dream came, but this time, Gene did not run. He turned to face me, and running down one side of his face was a long, angry purple scar. Raising a finger, he pointed it at me. "You." He whispered. "You did this. Go back where you belong, Alex."_

"_I can't!" I shouted. "I can't get back! I'm dead there, and I'm stuck here, and I need you!"_

_He shook his head sadly, and then, turning, he started to walk away once more, and the old dream was back. I awoke in a cold sweat, and looking out the window, I realised it was morning. Sitting up, I looked around me blearily. As my eyes focused, I sucked in my breath. Written on the mirror in lipstick were the words "Which one?" Jumping up, I ran across the room and rubbed at it frantically, leaving my hand lurid red and aching, and the mirror smeary. Sighing, I went to take a shower, and catching sight of the mirror I was surprised to see the time: 8:30. Lena would be at Shaz's, and Lexi would be at college._

_Fifteen minutes later, I walked into Fenchurch East Police Station, Ada slung across my back in a baby sling. Claudia ran across the room to take her from me, and I slumped into my desk chair with a sigh. It was pointless. Gene was gone without trace. No-one had any idea of where he was, and no-one Victoria knew was willing to talk. _

_As usual, I sleepwalked through the day, not really paying attention to what I was doing. I was running on autopilot, and no matter how hard I tried, my thoughts always turned back to Gene._

_It was a welcome relief to get home, collapse onto the sofa and kick off my boots. Lena wouldn't be home till late, and Lexi was staying after college for a club. Now pleasantly calm, I reached under the cushion for the note._

_It was gone. I scrabbled around, tossing all the cushions off the sofa, checking the floor, down the back of the seats, the table, everywhere. It was no use: it was gone. Sitting down on the stripped sofa with a bump, it was then that I heard the knocking. It was loud and insistent, and the kind that demands attention. It rang out in three short bursts, before stopping, and there was the sound of retreating footsteps. Whoever it was was clearly impatient. _

_Stomping to the front door, I flung it wide, expecting to see a person or empty space. When I first looked out, that was all I saw. No-one and nothing. Suddenly, every fibre of my body willed me to look down. Tilting my head slowly to the ground, I caught my breath. Lying there, spread-eagled, unconscious, beaten-up, but unmistakably alive, was Gene. There was a piece of cardboard on his chest, with the words "Thank you," scrawled on it in permanent marker._

_I felt incredible. Falling to my knees, I kissed his bruised face and held his bloody hand. Then my subconscious worked it out. The missing note. Gene. The thank-you. Lexi had sacrificed herself for her father. _

_A single, silent tear splashed onto Gene's forehead. _


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Gene escaped the blast because Victoria came back and snatched him. **

"_Bolls," Gene murmured, and stirred in my arms. Drying my tears, I stared down at him, smiling bravely. He opened his eyes a crack, and glared at me. Shutting his eyes tightly again, he was pulled back below the waters on unconsciousness once more. Carefully, never letting go of his head, I reached for the phone and dialled 999. _

Victoria Victorious

When I returned from Shaz's, I found an empty flat and a note on the fridge:

Dad back. Lexi gone. Gone to hospital. Ada with me. Be back later. If want to visit, ask Shaz to drive you. Love, Mum x

"Bugger," I whispered. I remembered Lexi last night – she had been secretive, distracted. Now Dad was back, and she was gone. I crumpled the note in my hand angrily. Victoria had won. She had hurt my father, and now she had my sister back.

Furiously, I ran out the front door, slamming it after me, never stopping running until I arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later.

It wasn't hard to find my father at the hospital. I only had to say "Hunt," and the nurses were only too obliging to show me to his bedside. Arriving in St Matthew's ward, I was not surprised to see Dad sitting up, having a blazing argument with Mum.

"We need to do it! It'll lure her out. We need to!" Dad was shouting.

"No!" Mum yelled back, and placing her hand on his cheek, she stared deep into his eyes. "I want to marry you when the time is right. Not to lure Victoria out," she said softly, and Dad frowned half-heartedly.

"We _are_ ready," he said. "We've been ready for sixteen years. I want to marry you more than anything. And if – if – it lures out that _scumbag _then it's a bonus. Please, Alex."

And then he kissed her. It was the first time I had ever seen them kissing, and it felt wrong – I was intruding on this intensely private moment.

They pulled apart and stared deep into one another's eyes. I cleared my throat, and they sprang apart like two schoolchildren. "Lena," Mum acknowledged, and I went and sat carefully beside her on the bed.

"Dad," I whispered. "Mum, I think you and Dad should get married. I think you are ready, and that it would lure Victoria out. Please, Mum. Trust Dad."

"Thank you very much for that vote of confidence, Bolly Junior. What do you say, Drakey? You and me, united in holy matrimony?" Dad said, and Mum rolled her eyes.

"Oh all right, _Hunt. _But I want a proper wedding. Not like my crappy first one…" she stopped. Dad was staring at her in amazement.

"You've been married before? Bloody hell." Dad said, and Mum punched him lightly on the arm. He grimaced, and relented. "Fine, fine. Lucky bugger, wasn't he? Now then, we've got to get out of here. We've got a wedding to plan."

Over the next month, wedding preparations were fevered. Dresses were fitted, food ordered and a venue booked, until finally it was Midsummer's Day, and the plan was set in motion.

I stood behind my mum at the end of the aisle. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress: it was dark blue, strapless, with a white sash, and she had white roses in her hair. She glowed with happiness, and I glowed too, proud to be her daughter. I was wearing silver satin, and carrying white roses. As the congregation rose, Mum took hold of Chris's hand and began to walk slowly along the carpeted aisle.

By the registrar, Dad turned to face us. He too was wearing gray, with a new blue tie. His face broke into a broad grin, and I smiled even wider. This was it. Finally, my parents could be completely happy. I passed faces: some I knew, some I didn't: Evan, Shaz, Ollie, John, Viv, Marcus, and many more.

Coming to a halt, I squeezed Mum's hand tightly and took my seat. Under my dress, I could feel my steel corset restricting my breathing. Dad had insisted we were all safe: Mum and I had the steel corsets, and he was wearing a bullet-proof vest under his suit. Turning my attention back to the service, I heard the registrar say: "If any person has any reason why these two people cannot be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

There was a silence, before the door burst open and Victoria stood, framed by sunlight. "She cannot marry him! Alex Drake cannot marry Gene Hunt, because she is in love with another man!"

Betraying The Bride 

"_What?" I whispered. "What are you talking about?" _

_Victoria strode up the aisle, taking an envelope from her handbag as she did so. "Gene, Alex can't marry you. She's in love with Evan White." she declared._

"_Evan? Don't be so bloody ridiculous!" Gene laughed. "Besides, you're scum. Why should I trust anything you say?"_

"_Because… I have proof. While you were away, Gene, Alex and Evan were sleeping together. And here…" she pulled out a shiny photograph from her envelope and handed it to Gene. "Is the proof."_

_I craned my neck to look at it. It was ludicrous. I would _never _do something like that. Then Gene shifted slightly and I saw the photo properly. Evan. Me. In the lounge. We're sat on the sofa, and Evan's kissing me. I remember that night. Evan came round to talk to me after we returned. We had a glass of wine, and sat and talked. Out of the blue, Evan had leant over and kissed me. For a second, I had forgotten myself, kissed him back. Then I broke away and slapped him, hard, on the right cheek. That, coupled with the sting of rejection, had driven him from the flat, and our relationship had been decidedly rocky ever since. _

"_Bolly?" Gene asked, the contempt clear in his voice. "Bolly, explain."_

_Before I could open my mouth to speak, before I could move, Evan had stood, and said: "It's true, Gene. I've been seeing Alex since she returned from Cardiff."_

"_Gene?" I whispered. "Gene, I love you. I know what happened that night. Evan came onto me. I slapped him, and he left. I would never, ever betray you. I want to be with you more than anything. Please, Gene. You have to believe me!"_

_Gene looked sceptical. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, another voice had piped up: "It's a lie. What Victoria said was a lie. Mum's telling the truth."_

"_Well ,who the bloody hell are you?" Gene asked. From the back of the room, Lexi stepped out. She smiled and tossed her hair._

"_Hello Dad." She said._

_Gene blinked at her in shock. His mouth formed a silent "o" of surprise, and then he nodded and took my hand again. Before he could speak, I pressed his hand to my lips and whispered: "I love you. I want to marry you, I want to be yours more than I want to keep living. Please."_

"_OK, Bolls. I believe you. I love you _so much._" He said, and my heart fluttered. Turning to face the registrar, he said more loudly: "Please proceed with the ceremony."_

_Evan's face clouded with anger and he pointed at the photo again. "But what about the proof?" He shouted. _

"_This is what I think of your sodding proof!" Gene shouted, and ripped the photograph in half, and then in half again._

"_No!" Victoria screamed, a harsh, guttural sound. "No!"_

_Pulling a gun from her pocket, she aimed it squarely at my head. Time seemed to slow as her finger curling slowly around the trigger, caressing it, before pulling it carefully. "NO!" Gene shouted, forgetting the bulletproof vests, forgetting everything as he dived in front of me. As the sound of the shot reached me he obscured my view of Victoria. All I could hear was Lexi shouting "No!" and running footsteps, and then Gene was on the floor. Ray was sprinting up the aisle to Victoria, cuffing her, and she was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. _

_That was when I realised – Gene should have stood up by now. Looking down, I fell to my knees. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the crimson stain spreading across his left shoulder. He smiled painfully at me, and I took his hand in both of mine. Lena and Lexi ran over to us, crouching down, trying hard to be brave. "My girls," Gene whispered. "My best girls." _

_I tried to smile. "Gene Hunt, you're going quite soft!" I said tearfully, and he chuckled, grimacing in pain._

"_Bolls, marry me. Now. Those bloody paramedics'll take ages to get their arses here. Let's kill some time, get married, try not to think…" he coughed, and his face grew sombre. "About what's killing me."_

"_Don't talk like that!" I begged, the tears flowing freely now. "Please," I implored the registrar. "Marry us, now."_

_She nodded, and began to recite the vows in a shaky voice. I barely listened, instead focusing on Gene, his face, his smile, his rough hands – anything but the blood. I managed to say "I do," in the right place, and so did Gene, and then the registrar said "You may now kiss the bride." Looking down, I saw we were both crying. I pressed my lips to his, and they moved together, in-sync. I sensed this was his way of saying goodbye, a last kiss, and I never wanted it to end. Pulling away at last as the doors crashed open and the paramedics burst in, I looked into his eyes and whispered simply: "I love you." He nodded slowly, before his eyes closed slowly and his breathing slowed._

"_Gene?" I whispered. "Stay with me Gene, please. Don't leave me! I need you! Our baby needs you!" _

_Whispering erupted behind me, but I didn't care. Gene's eyes had snapped open, and he was staring at me in shock. "Baby?" he whispered, before the paramedics wheeled him away, and his hand was torn from my grasp. Looking at Lexi and Lena, I took them into my arms, and together we shared in a moment of sorrow, of joy, of unity._

**I hope you all like Evil Evan :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, here it is! The final part!**

Time Of The Tyler

"Alex?" A voice asked from behind me. "Alex Drake? I can't believe it's you! After all these years! I've heard so much about you!"

Wiping my eyes, I turned, to find a vaguely familiar man with dark blonde-brown hair and dark eyes, with his arm around a pretty woman with softly curled brown hair and clear blue-green eyes. "Oh, sorry." The man said, with a Mancunian accent. "I thought were someone else. Sam Tyler," he said, and stuck out his hand.

"Tyler?" I repeated, shaking his hand. "Of course! _The _Sam Tyler! Dad talked about you a lot. I'm Lena, Lena Drake-Hunt." I said. He looked me up and down in surprise.

"Blimey. You were only titchy the last time I saw you. You look just like your mother." He said, and smiled.

"But, you never knew my mother. You only came back in 1984, after she left. How do you know what she looks like?" I asked, confused. Smiling, the woman at his side spoke up.

"I'm Annie, Annie Cartwright…" she said in a soft voice.

"I know who you are, Annie." I assured.

"Well, your dad showed us lots of photos of your mum. Sam told me he used to know her, back where he's from. I used to wish I'd met her, she sounds incredible. And she's a psychologist too…" she trailed off, her eyes focused on something behind me. Turning, I saw Mum, still in her wedding dress, standing in the doorway of Dad's room, staring at Sam in shock.

"Sam Tyler? My God! I don't believe it! What are you doing here?" she eventually managed.

"Hello Alex," Sam said. "We were here for the wedding, but there was dreadful traffic…"

"You!" Mum exclaimed. "You're the mystery guest! Gene said there was going to be a mystery guest, I had no idea it was you!"

Sam laughed. "Yep, that's me. International man of mystery." He waggled his eyebrows, and Mum laughed.

"And this must be Annie!" Mum said. "I've heard so much about you! The famous Annie Cartwright. This is turning into quite a day…"

"It's Annie Tyler, really. Me and the girls, we're all Tylers and proud." Annie laughed. Mum's face was a picture of surprise. I didn't remember any children with Sam and Annie in the early days, when they still visited, in the four years or so following Mum's disappearance. Thinking harder, I remembered Annie being pregnant, but never any children.

"Kids?" Mum asked. "You have kids?"

Sam looked amazed. "We've got three girls, Alex. Tilly, Rose and Jessie. Twelve, ten and eight." He paused, and his lips moved silently as he did the maths. "Of course not, sorry. How is the guv?" He asked abruptly.

Mum's eyes filled with tears. She was the only one they'd let in to see him. Lexi had gone home hours ago, and with her Shaz and Ollie. Only I had stayed, waiting eagerly for the time when Dad would regain consciousness and open his eyes.

Reaching out, I hugged her tightly, and placed my hand gently on her stomach. "Think of the baby," I whispered, and she nodded, sniffing hard.

"The baby," she repeated. "Little Samantha or Jacob."

"You're expecting?" Annie asked, and Mum nodded again. "Oh, congratulations! When's it due?" she gushed, but Mum wasn't listening. She was crying into my shoulder, shaking and gasping for oxygen.

"Oh Mum," I whispered. "Oh Mum."

"Alex, come on. I think you need a cup of tea. Come along, pet." Annie said, and prising Mum's arms away from me she led her away, still sobbing.

Sitting down on a hard, shiny plastic chair, I put my head back as far as I could and stared at the ceiling, before rolling my neck back and placing my head in my hands. A single tear splashed onto the silver satin, and I shivered. A black leather jacket entered my vision, and I muttered thanks before slipping it on.

Sam sat beside me, now jacketless, and simply stared at the wall opposite. He didn't say anything, and that was fine. We sat like that, me staring into my lap and him staring at the wall, in silence, for three or four minutes, until I said a single word. "Bullet." I whispered. "One little bit of metal, but it can do so much damage. It can create wealth, mourning, happiness, pain. It brought Mum here, and sent her back, twice. It nearly killed me, it nearly killed her, and its nearly killing Dad… I can't stand it any more. I just want my life back the way it was. I can't take any more! I want it all to end! Make it go away! Please!" I begged, and Sam reached over awkwardly. I pushed him away. "No," I whispered. "No, I don't _want_ to go on."

Reaching down, I slid my hand inside my dress, feeling carefully until I found the straps of the steel corset. It was mechanical, and could be tightened by turning a flat dial. I locked my fingers around the wheel, and slowly but surely started to turn. I remembered what I had once heard about them: tighten them enough and they'd keep turning, keep tightening, themselves. The mechanism would lock.

The pain was excruciating. I could feel my ribs cracking, but I kept turning. And then I felt it. The mechanism clicked, and although the wheel was still, I could feel it tightening. Spots danced in front of my eyes, and then there was an audible _crack _and it all went black.

Crushed And Cracked

_As I walked back from the canteen, I felt better. I knew Gene would be all right. He would get better, and we would make a new start: him, Lena, Lexi, me, Ada and the baby. _

_I was smiling to myself, listening to Annie burble on about her daughters, when we turned into the corridor that led to Gene's room. I looked up… and froze. My brain refused to comprehend the scene before me._

_Lena was lying on the floor, her dress ripped open and the steel of her corset was glinting dully. Sam was bent over her, clawing at her corset frantically. My legs unfroze and I ran to her side, desperate to get this perverse man away from my daughter. _

_But then I got closer. I heard the dull cracking from her chest, and I saw her limp form, and I realised what had happened. The corset was tightening, tightening, tightening, slowly killing her. Sam was trying to turn the dial at the side, but to no avail. _

_Pulling out his gun, he stared at the thing, repulsed, whispering: "This started this whole thing, maybe it can end it." Before placing it flat against the metal and firing once. The dial was blown away, and I heard Annie gasp. "Get help!" I shouted, before dropping to my knees next to Sam. The corset was loose now, and I ripped it back, exposing the thin cotton shift underneath. Through the fabric, I could see the livid purple bruises already blossoming, and I was shocked. That was when it hit me. She hadn't gasped when it came off. She wasn't breathing._

"_Who?" I shouted, whilst trying desperately to perform CPR. "Who?"_

"_It was her…" Sam whispered. "She said… she'd had enough. Couldn't go on… I can't… I don't know… I…" he broke off. _

"_One, two, three, four…" I counted, before processing what he had said. "No, she wouldn't do that. No…" I tried to deny it, but I knew it was true. "Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two… COME ON LENA!" I shouted. Placing my mouth to hers, I breathed as hard as I could, counting all the while. After a few seconds, I went back to pounding her chest. I could feel the sharp stubs of her broken ribs under my hands. Suddenly, she gave an almighty gasp, and opened her eyes. _

_She looked at me, at Sam, at the nurses who were now bustling round her, and screamed. Or, tried to scream. Her poor, pierced, destroyed lungs could only manage a loud, high-pitched rush of air. Her lips began to move, her larynx unable to form coherent words without the oxygen available. Leaning down, I placed my ear to her lips. It was the same three words, over and over and over:_

"_Why… still… here...why…still…here?"_

_I started to sob once more. I wasn't there when she needed me. I had let her down. I had let everybody down. _

"_Alex?" A voice asked. "Alex? Where are you?" _

"_Gene?" I whispered. "Gene. Gene!" Running into his room, I hugged him tightly and cried._

Pierced Perfection

It was a long, arduous recuperation. As my ribs healed, as my lungs repaired, I grew stronger. I spent as much time as possible with my mother – spending all my time outside of school at the station. Through the dark times, she kept me going, helping to heal the psychological scars as well as the physical.

As the memories and bruises faded, as I left my suicidal state of mind and entered a new, happier one, I began to rediscover the joys of life. I grew closer to my twin, and together we took care of Ada. Tom had disappeared following Victoria's arrest, and had last been seen back in Cardiff, boarding a plane to Greece.

As Mum progressed in her pregnancy, we took care of her too. Dad worked longer hours, and Mum tried to, so she could have as much time off as possible when the baby was born. Sometimes, our plan fell down when she took a tumble at work, or some piece of criminal scum took a swipe at her, but Dad was doing his best to keep her safe.

As for me, I was happy, I was with my family, and I was very much alive.

Epilogue

_Falling back onto my pillows, I felt utterly exhausted but proud. The midwife smiled at me and I smiled back._

"_Ms Drake," she said. "Would you like to see your daughter?" _

_I nodded, and taking the tiny bundle into my arms, I gazed down into two clear, blue eyes and felt a rush of love._

"_Samantha Molly Drake-Hunt, you are beautiful. So beautiful." I whispered, and kissed the top of her perfect head. _

**Never fear! There will be another Gene-Alex-Lena fanfic coming soon ;)**


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